


No Room For Regret

by paintedaybreaks (nightberrypearl)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightberrypearl/pseuds/paintedaybreaks
Summary: Boba is bolting out of their apartment before his buir even finishes yelling his name. The echo of it follows him through the plain white corridors of Tipoca City.He hadn’t expected to need to make such a swift getaway but his buir had always instilled in him the importance of being prepared. Though he thinks he could probably be forgiven for not having thought this far ahead.It’s not easy to put one over on his buir after all. It’shis buir, and he has heard enough to know at least a little bit about what that means. It’s also not the first time Boba has tried to play an innocent little prank on him.It is, however, the first time he’s succeeded.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett, Boba Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 222





	No Room For Regret

**Author's Note:**

> It's been... almost a year now I think since I last wrote anything so this comes to you from the tail end of a long case of block. I've also never written for Star Wars before, so I hope I've done okay with it.
> 
> This idea comes from a little challenge I've set myself. I've been following a prompt list and coming up with one idea/short snippet each day to get myself back into writing slowly. The prompt for this was 'sleeves' and my mind would not stop thinking about Boba hiding in Obi's sleeves so yeah. This happened. 
> 
> This is an AU where one way or another, Obi-Wan ended up on Kamino a few years early, and a few things happened to get to the point where clone production was stopped, Jangobi became a thing, and they're steadily working towards setting up futures for the clones. I don't go into detail about any of this but that's the premise I was imagining. 
> 
> Boba is about 5 here and the Jangobi is somewhat minor.

Boba is bolting out of their apartment before his buir1 even finishes yelling his name. The echo of it follows him through the plain white corridors of Tipoca City.

He hadn’t expected to need to make such a swift getaway but his buir had always instilled in him the importance of being prepared. Though he thinks he could probably be forgiven for not having thought this far ahead.

It’s not easy to put one over on his buir after all. It’s _his buir_ , and he has heard enough to know at least a little bit about what that means. It’s also not the first time Boba has tried to play an innocent little prank on him.

It is, however, the first time he’s succeeded.

‘ _I’ve already achieved the impossible once today,_ ’ he thinks to himself, ‘ _maybe I can do it again._ ’

In his childish innocence, he lets himself believe that he can succeed where countless many other grown sentients have failed. He runs and he runs, frantically scanning his surroundings as he goes. He estimates that he has roughly a minute or so before his buir comes looking for him. It could be less, but Boba is fairly certain his father is going to be armouring up fully before he leaves their apartment.

The amused faces of his vode2 greet him time and time again as he speeds past them. He’s mostly sure that what amuses them isn’t the sight of him on the run alone - that in itself is common enough. It’s more likely that their amusement is coming from a sense of glee that someone who is not them has been targeted for once.

Reaching an empty stretch of more plain white walls, he pauses momentarily, catching his breath. He can’t stop for long, he knows this, but he needs a plan. His buir is probably already on a hunt for him and he needs allies if he is to have any hope. Mentally, he catalogues his options. His first thought would be to head to the refectory but with breakfast hour just gone, it’s unlikely he’ll be able to find a crowd of vode there to blend into.

It hits him suddenly. The perfect place to go in times of need. Whatever retribution his buir has planned for him (which past experience tells him is probably an annoyingly side-splitted amount of tickles) will not reach him in this place.

It takes him another moment to mentally map out the fastest route and then he’s off again. He’s wasted time not thinking ahead to this point and he has no time to lose.

He skids around yet another non-descriptive corner that looks just like all the others and sees the salvation he’s been looking for.

“O’buir!”3

The man in question turns just in time to catch him as he barrels into his legs at full tilt.

Just as surely as he knows that it rains on Kamino, Boba knows that his O’buir spends the early hours of most days in the jungle training room. There are a whole series of rooms similar to this one which were used before for training his brothers in different terrains. All of them are all but abandoned now, except for this one, which, as far as Boba is concerned, his O’buir likes to sit and breathe in. O’buir can give it whatever fancy name he wants to what he does in there but Boba has seen him at it. It’s just sitting and breathing.

“Boba,” the jedi begins, a hint of surprise colouring his tone - although, Boba thinks, he really shouldn’t be, and in all likelihood, deep down he isn’t. “Who are you running from this time?”

“Who says I’m running from anyone?” He hopes it doesn’t come out as defensive as he feels. He was taught better than to give the game away at the first line of questioning. “What if I’m just really excited to see you?”

O’buir’s eyes crinkle at the corners as they light up. Boba isn’t sure what exactly he finds funny, but at that moment, it doesn’t matter. He needs him on his side, and fast.

Hands still wrapped around his O’buir’s legs and fisted in the back of his flowing cloak, Boba widens his eyes in a mask of perfect innocence and smiles up at his O’buir. He hopes that the baby fat that continues to cling to his cheeks will finally be of some use to him as he chants _iminnocentiminnocentivedonenothingwrong_ over and over in his head. He’s not really sure how all that jedi stuff works, but it can’t hurt to try.

His O’buir smiles at him, so maybe it’s working. A gentle hand cards through his hair and if he lets himself lean into it, then that’s nobody’s business but his. O’buir lowers himself down onto one knee so that they’re about the same height before drawing Boba into his arms. He makes himself comfortable among the folds of his oversized robe and relaxes into him, and the arms around him tighten in response. Oh, it’s definitely working.

“What did you do?”

Or maybe not.

Boba opens his mouth, ready to deny all possibility that he could have done absolutely anything to deserve such suspicion, but before he can even begin, he hears heavy footsteps quickly approaching. He’s run out of time. It could be a vod, but instinctively, he knows it’s not.

He absolutely does _not_ squeak, but he does dash behind his O’buir’s larger frame just as his other buir comes stalking around the corner. O’buir stands from his crouched position and shakes out his sleeves, folding his hands within them, and conveniently shifting his cloak to fan out further around him in the same movement. Boba appreciates the extra cover.

“Jate vaar’tur, cyare.”4 O’buir greets. It’s a testament to how disgruntled his buir is that he doesn’t immediately return it in kind.

Buir stops just short of them and even though he can’t see his face from under his buy’ce5, Boba is fairly certain that there is not a happy face under there.

“I’m looking for our son.” Even without the vocoder, he would guess that his buir’s voice would not sound any less flat.

“Oh?” Boba can hear from his voice that O’buir has an eyebrow raised. “Which one?”

“You know which one.” Buir states drily. He must not have had his morning caf yet, Boba thinks to himself, before he remembers exactly why that could be the case.

“I can’t say that I do, my dear.” He pauses deliberately before continuing, “I’m not a mind reader.”

He hears his buir sigh. It’s a tired one, bone deep, as if he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.

There’s a period of silence, and hearing nothing, Boba peeks out from behind O’buir’s sleeve. The two adults stare at one another as if his buir is challenging O’buir to prove himself statement wrong. In return, O’buir gives him the same look of innocence Boba had used before. His buir immediately notices him and turns his head sharply in his direction.

Boba gasps and ducks away. He feels reassured that he made the right choice in coming to find O’buir when his buir is blocked from reaching him by a blur of brown and cream quickly stepping in the way.

They come to a halt, standing chest to chest, with Boba a step behind his O’buir who takes the opportunity to lean forward and knock his forehead lightly against his buir’s buy’ce, effectively luring his gaze away from Boba.

“Want to tell me what this is about?” He asks, mirth evident on his face.

“Is it related to the reason you haven’t taken off your buy’ce to greet me properly this morning?” He continues when it becomes clear that he won’t be getting a response.

“Boba knows what he did.” His buir eventually intones.

It’s true. He does. Though that doesn’t mean he thinks he’s deserving of whatever his buir has planned for him. As much as Boba has tried in the past, he’s never actually succeeded. The way he sees it, it’s his buir’s own fault for letting his guard down this time.

“And would either of you care to enlighten me?”

O’buir takes a step back and turns to lower himself to face Boba once more.

“I can’t save you from your father if I don’t know.”

Boba would like to challenge anyone to deny his O’buir anything when he looks at them like he is looking at Boba right now.

“I found some dye…” He begins. He might be folding but he’s no deck of cards.

“I see…” O’buir raises a hand to stroke his beard. Boba thinks he catches a glimpse of the smile it covers. “And what did you mix it into?”

Boba mumbles but apparently not incoherently enough because his O’buir involuntarily lets out an undignified snort. Out of the corner of his eyes, his buir bristles.

Standing back up and turning to face his riduur6, O’buir reaches for buir’s buy’ce but his wrists are grabbed before he can pull it off.

“Surely, you’re not planning on hiding your face from me for however long it takes for it to wash off, are you?”

Even Boba knows that his buir would be almost incapable of doing such a thing. He’s seen enough of his parents’ casual affections to know it wouldn’t last.

Resigned, his buir lets go, allowing his buy’ce to be removed and O’buir tries in vain to suppress a smile. It doesn’t work of course, even if he lips don’t move, O’buir’s smile will always be reflected in his eyes.

The frown on his buir’s face is just as Boba had imagined it. The rest however… it’s better than he could have thought of or planned for.

If his buir didn’t shave every morning, Boba is sure that his buir could grow a beard to rival O’buir’s but buir keeps his face clean and O’buir doesn’t. That’s just the way things have always been. Until now. This morning, a deep blue silhouette of a beard stretches over his upper lip, extends up along his jaw and continues down a little further down to his neck. It’s messy and uneven, patchy and misshapen, and overall absolutely ridiculous.

He knows he shouldn’t laugh. Not if he still wants to have any hope of escaping unscathed but he can’t help it. He hadn’t been able to get a look earlier before he was fleeing for safety and now that he’s seen it, he’s glad he hadn’t. If he had, he would have been doubled over in laughter long enough for his buir to catch up to him in an instant. O’buir doesn’t look like he’s handling it much better.

“I like the colour,” he says around a grin, “although I’m not sure the style quite suits you, my dear.”

Buir’s eyes narrow before he snatches back his buy’ce and shoves it back on, covering his face once more. He makes another grab for Boba, and this time succeeds. An arm wraps around his middle and then he’s dragged forwards and promptly thrown over his buir’s shoulder.

“No! Buir!” He protests, “put me down!”

He wiggles in his grasp and pounds his fists against his buir’s cuirass to no avail. He lifts his head to gaze mournfully at his O’buir.

“I’m sorry little one,” O’buir tells him as he trails behind them back through the corridors to their apartment, “not even I can help you now.”

Boba sighs and lets himself become dead weight on buir’s shoulders.

When they get back to the apartment, his buir sets him down on the couch before heading into the ‘fresher, returning shortly with the tube of shaving gel that started it all.

“It’s still early, but I think,” his buir begins, with a calculating tone that Boba knows means that whatever buir says next, he is not going to like it, “it’s time I taught you how to shave.”

An almost feral grin takes over his buir’s face and Boba tries to pull O’buir in front of him but the man doesn’t budge. _Traitor_.

* * *

No-one asks when Boba is seen later that day with colourful smudges and stains all over his face, the glare behind it doing more than enough to dissuade them.

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
>   1. Parent; in this case, referring to Jango specifically ↩︎
>   2. Siblings; here referring to the other clones; plural of ‘vod’ ↩︎
>   3. Adding the first syllable of ‘Obi-Wan’ to ‘buir’ (parent) signifies that he’s referring to Obi-Wan as opposed to Jango - I’ve seen a number of fics do this and I think it makes a lot of sense so this is what I’m also going with. ↩︎
>   4. ‘Jate vaar’tur’ - Good morning (I think, I just smooshed two Mando’a words together and hoped)  
>  ‘Cyare’ - Term of endearment: beloved; loved ↩︎
>   5. Helmet ↩︎
>   6. Partner; spouse ↩︎
> 

> 
> I feel like there's too many instances of the word 'buir' or derivations of it but I also have no solution for that.
> 
> If you've read this far, thank you! And also any comments would be appreciated :)


End file.
